


Home for the Holidays

by RubyFiamma



Category: [19 Days] Old先
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Christmas Fluff, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Dry Humping, Dry Sex, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhan Zheng Xi invites Jian Yi over for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [for-the-saba](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=for-the-saba).



> Based loosely on [this](http://yaoi-blcd.tumblr.com/post/135876894335/alliandoalice-old-xian-19-days). Also whoops this was meant to be fluff but
> 
> For my wife, Audrey.  
> I'm sorry for all the JeanMarco pain today.

 

**Home for the Holidays**

* * *

 

Zheng Xi once read somewhere that the warmth and joy of Christmas brings people closer to each other. He's always been close with his family, so he's never really known what it feels like to be alone on Christmas, never known the true depth in the meaning of those words.

Jian Yi's arrival after all this time has given Zheng Xi many things to think about; one of them being the lack of family the other has and what it means to spend these types of holidays alone. Which is why, despite his annoying presence and whiny manner of getting attention, Zheng Xi's invited him over to his apartment for after-Christmas festivities. Of course with absolutely no convincing, Jian Yi agreed and now here they are.

It wasn't supposed to be anything special, he didn't get the other a gift or anything like that. Instead they ordered late-night take-out and watched old kung-fu movies on the television until the sky grew darker and the light of the stars reflected off the snowflakes flittering to the powdered ground like Christmas tinsel. With dinner it was beer but after that it was something heavier; a rich cognac that his good-for-nothing best friend had handed over when he got to Zheng Xi's apartment. He mixed it in with hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and peppermint candy canes. Naturally, Zheng Xi complained about the over the top drink of festivity; it didn't need to be so fancy when they could have just shot the liquor straight but he can't deny that the drink had hit the spot. Zheng Xi knows he'll pay for later, but the concoction went down as silky smooth if not easy, making him glow warmth from the inside out.

He's had a few too many and Zheng Xi is hot in his ugly-but-comfy Christmas sweater his sister had given him as a gift and insisted he wore. There's such an intense radiance emanating from the body beside him that it almost makes the room feel like he's sitting on the surface of the sun. He's tempted to undress, at least strip out of his clothing but his limbs feel tingly and numb so he doesn't move. The room hasn't started to spin out of control, but his vision has begun to blur around the edges. Jian Yi is quiet for the moment, nothing but the low drone of the television and the sound effects emitting from the game console he holds in his hands. Zheng Xi takes the opportunity to lie his head down on the coffee table in front of him and waits for the wave of dizziness to pass. If he could just close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, focus on the sounds filling up the space and the memory of the cozy soft glow from the Christmas tree he's sure it'll quell the nausea.

After a minute or two he hears the game go off and the clunk of the console hitting the wooden table. Zheng Xi's head feels too heavy to lift it in curiosity of what the other's up to now. Instead he opens his eyes, slow so that the change doesn't launch him into another wave of spins.

Jian Yi is staring back at him, his eyes glossed over and almost sparkling under the dim light.

"What are you doing?" Zheng Xi asks. He intends for it to sound harsher than it does, instead his voice warbles warm in his throat as if he were amused and not mildly agitated that his moment of peace is no more.

"Was just about to ask you the same thing," Jian Yi replies. His lips splay a grin too easy, loose and comfortable like the feel of worn and familiar fabric. "Are you tired?"

"No," Zheng Xi sighs. "Just a little drunk."

Jian Yi laughs. "Mm... me too." His hand rests on the table beside his face, taking up Zheng Xi's field of view. It puts into perspective his smooth, porcelain-like skin and fingers that are long and slender. They look like nimble, yet delicate as if they could be fingers belonging to a graceful pianist instead of some clumsy, loud mouthed oaf.  He can't explain it, but they look cold and suddenly he's got a peculiar urge to reach out and touch Jian Yi's fingertips for confirmation.

And so he does just that, without putting much thought into the after. Before he's thinking past the thick webs of inebriation clouding his better judgement, Zheng Xi reaches across the table and touches the tips of Jian Yi's fingers with his own. They are cold -- just a little -- but he isn't prepared for the softness of the other's skin or the tiny sigh of warm breath he feels ghosting across his hand. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, but it's not cold and unpleasant. The feeling makes him tingle; makes heat rise from his chest to his hairline and suddenly he's all too aware of what he's doing yet he doesn't move his hand from where it lay over Jian Yi's own, fingers laced.

He can feel himself glowing hot with embarrassment, but when he chances a glance at the other's face, Jian Yi isn't looking at him. He's curved over the coffee table, eyes closed and still. Zheng Xi spends a good minute staring until he starts to feel a little enraged that he's appreciating the fact that the Jian Yi doesn't look as stupid as he is. Instead he looks like the epitome of ethereal; a thick curtain of lashes brushing against the dusted rose of his cheeks, fine strands of pale hair falling with ease over his eyes and across the sharp bridge of his nose. Zheng Xi's gaze falls to the soft curve of Jian Yi's mouth, plush-pink and parted gently to allow just the slightest of wisps of breath.

Zheng Xi's own breath catches in his throat; he can hear himself try to choke down the words that he knows are going to leave his mouth and there isn't anything he can do to stop them.

"Jian Yi," he says like it's apparition of himself speaking and not his conscious and sober self. He's already beginning to make the mistake before Jian Yi responds with a very hazy, "Hm?"

"Kiss me."

There's a pause but it's not enough time for Zheng Xi to come to his senses. Whatever warm and fuzzy feeling has taken over him he lacks the mental capacity to try and resist. Part of him fears rejection; if Zheng Xi could think straight it would make sense that Jian Yi would. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers a very cold and painful night and tears that fell as hard as the rain did.

"Okay."

Zheng Xi's heart stops and he's pretty sure so do his lungs. This is what all those shitty pop songs about love and hearts skipping beats must be referring to because he's pretty sure his heart did just that. But before he has the chance to protest or make some sort of flimsy excuse, Jian Yi's leaning over; closing the distance between them and suddenly Zheng Xi 's hand is in the other's hair, fingers finding purchase in strands made out of silk. Their lips connect and it isn't at all what Zheng Xi is expecting. It's not startling and clumsy like that first time. It happens fast and just as unexpected, but Jian Yi's mouth is warm; his lips soft to the touch and his fingers settle gently along the line of Zheng Xi's neck.

The other's lips part and Zheng Xi isn't sure what to do but Jian Yi's tongue fans across his lip slow and suggestively and it's instinct that takes over when Zheng Xi does the same. His mouth opens; he lets Jian Yi's tongue lick against his own. His stomach drops in time to the shudder that ripples down his spine. Jian Yi tastes like Christmas; wintry peppermint and spun sugar, the spice of the cognac laced in with rich chocolate. He can feel the other's tongue sweep the roof of his mouth and along his teeth and Zheng Xi can't think at all anymore. His hand tightens it's grip in Jian Yi's hair and he presses harder into the kiss; his breath is heavy and his heart is racing and he's pretty sure he just made the most comprising sound against the other's mouth but with all his synapses snapping with sensation all at once, Zheng Xi doesn't have logical capacity nor the inhibition to care about humiliation. Instead he pushes suggestion at Jian Yi's shoulder with his other hand and Jian Yi capitulates easy, down to the floor they go. Zheng Xi has no idea what he's doing, he's just caught up in the intense heat that's building in the pit of his stomach; the fire igniting through his veins; the electricity sparking up his spine. Jian Yi seems to get the idea, his fingers are curling at the hem of Zheng Xi's sweater and they linger there, but when he doesn't bark protest, the other begins working on hiking the heavy sweater up his tingling skin.

They have to part for a minute, Zheng Xi takes matters into his own hands and pulls off his sweater, the collar catching at his nose and ruffling his hair. He clumsily tosses it aside and when he glances down it's to see Jian Yi's silvery blond hair fanned out around his head like a halo, warm rosy colour riding high in his cheeks. His eyes are shuttered, half open in a lustful haze and Zheng Xi's stomach swoops like the atmosphere has just hit zero gravity upon the revelation his best friend is actually some fucking sort of ethereal deity. He wants to devour him -- it gives Zheng Xi chills, the feeling spikes adrenaline into his blood and he ducks in too quickly, smashes his mouth inelegantly against the lips of an unsuspecting Jian Yi. His teeth catch at Jian Yi's lip and he can feel the near tangible hesitation of Jian Yi's hands hovering over his spine. But it's only a moment's worth before Zheng Xi feels the press of Jian Yi's fingertips into his back and then the other's nails dragging against his skin. For a minute all Zheng Xi's thoughts stall out on a beat when suddenly the hand that had been idly mapping all the sharp planes and edges along Jian Yi's chest and hips brushes against the hard line of the other's cock beneath his jeans. It should freak him out, but he's on fire and temporarily insane so he catches himself smirking against Jian Yi's lips and does the unthinkable. He closes his fist around the clothed shape as best he can and rubs friction against the other's length. It makes Jian Yi gasp and Zheng Xi takes the opportunity to adjust himself so that he's able to grind against Jian Yi without having to use his hands. He wants them tangled in the soft strands of Jian Yi's hair.

The first roll and press of his hips causes both of them to shudder. He can feel Jian Yi's fingertips skirting their way down his spine, brushing tease at the edge of his waistband. The room is spinning, but Zheng Xi tries not to think about that when he goes in for the next one. Everything is overheating, Zheng Xi feels like he's lost all rational thought and complete control of his own body. Instead his heart is racing; his blood is rushing in his ears. He can't breathe but he's got no problem living off the borrowed air from Jian Yi's lungs. He's not even sure what he's kissing anymore, it's just wet lips and tongues and scraping teeth against skin in a frenzy that feels all too much like a dream, with a single thread tethering him to the conscious notion that this is reality.

Jian Yi's thumb is hooked into the elastic now, his fingers splayed out and stroking down the trail of Zheng Xi's tailbone. There's a word of encouragement with the tug of his hair and a whispered plea with a kiss to his chin and Zheng Xi is fighting the urge to succumb completely yet he doesn't stop the grind of his hips or the burning friction between them. He thinks he should stop but instead he moves faster, licks against the pale curve of Jian Yi's throat and Jian Yi lets out a breathless groan in the shape of his name.

" _Zheng Xi_ \--," and whatever was left of Zheng Xi's composure shatters. He shudders again, this time bodily and with that comes a surge of adrenaline and a wave of nausea.  He doesn't want to stop but he knows he's not going to be able to continue. He feels funny, woozy like he's not just booze-drunk but love-drunk. Especially when he braces himself against the carpet and opens his eyes to find double of everything and it all begins to bleed into each other but he's willing to sacrifice all that for the spark of Jian Yi's lips against his skin but his stomach won't let him.

He pushes himself off Jian Yi and the movement causes dizziness to sweep over his clouded, lust addled brain and he knows if he doesn't make it to the bathroom within the next thirty seconds, he's going to throw up all over his best friend. When he springs to his feet, Zheng Xi's knee catches the corner of the coffee table. There's a cacophony of sound too dull for him to make sense of, but he's pretty sure Jian Yi is asking him if everything's okay but it's muddled in with the sound of beer bottles clacking against the wooden surface as they topple over. The room tilts, Zheng Xi nearly looses his footing but he manages to throw out an arm and connect with a solid piece of wall and he's able to drag himself to the bathroom before he empties the contents of his stomach all over the place.

Once Zheng Xi's head hits the cool porcelain of the toilet and his throat is raw from retching, a little bit of clarity begins seep back into his world. When he opens his eyes, he's got normal vision and there's Jian Yi is sitting in the doorway, his head resting on the frame. He still has that dreamy haze glossed over his eyes, in a gaze too fond for Zheng Xi to be deserving of and his cheeks are still a blossoming pink. He wears a smile that holds no judgement or expectation; it's just simple and beautiful and genuine.

Zheng Xi doesn't remember what happens after that but what he does recall thinking just before he passes out is despite ending the night hugging his toilet and feeling like complete and utter shit, he should really have Jian Yi home more often and not just for the holidays.


End file.
